


Snorlax

by catlyon



Series: Sock Universe [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Biting, Fluff and Crack, Hairy Man Butts, M/M, Oral Sex, True Love, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlyon/pseuds/catlyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is taking a nap and Stiles stalks him like prey. Derek is Derek.</p><p>This is a silly story with a smidgen of skanky smut.</p><p>Set in the sock universe. You don't have to read the other one for this one to make sense, although it may help to understand the setting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snorlax

**Author's Note:**

> The point of this story is domestic playfulness. It doesn't really have a lot of plot, or a lot of porn. But it does have some, hopefully redeeming quantities, of both.
> 
> If you are worried about triggers be sure to see the end notes.
> 
> No pokemon (or pokey-mans) were harmed in the creation of this fic.

Stiles shoved himself back against the doorway and stood as straight and still as possible. His heart was beating at the speed of light, but his prey appeared to be fast asleep on the living room couch, so he hoped that if he was sneaky enough, he could surprise Peter before he awoke.

Derek sat in his favorite easy chair hunting and pecking on his laptop. Stiles peaked around the corner from his spot in the hallway. Derek glanced at Stiles, shook his head and went back to his laptop.

Stiles stood up on his toes and stealthily tiptoed into the living room. When Derek glanced up at him a second time Stiles placed his finger to his pursed lips in the universal sign to _shhhhh_.

Derek snorted.

Stiles gave him a look that suggested he should close his mouth and cooperate or there would be precious few morning blowjobs in his future.

Derek snorted again.

Stiles continued creeping, ever so slowly, toward the sleeping Peter.

Peter whined in his sleep.

Stiles stopped. He mimed placing his hands over heart and made a face that said “Oh, isn't he the sweetest thing, the poor little puppy.”

Derek snorted and hid a grin.

Stiles continued his tiptoed creeping.

Finally crossing the living room as quietly and with as much ninja skill as his ADHD self could muster, Stiles stood above Peter and gazed over his sleeping form. He took in Peter's relaxed posture, his soft snuffles, and the sweet way his hands curled up under his head. Peter looked like an angel resting on a cloud between bucolic choral interludes while welcoming well behaved nuns into the pearly gates.

Suddenly Stiles' shoulder jerked back, seemingly out of his control. He stumbled back a step, to catch himself before he fell. The other shoulder jerked and his legs fell out from under him, forcing him to his knees. Looking around, startled, he shot a helpless look over to Derek.

Derek ignored him and went on hunting and pecking.

Stiles threw his head back and opened his mouth in a silent scream of agony and terror. His hands flew to his face as his eyes rolled in their sockets. Stiles clawed at his hair, pulling at it forcibly until he fell to the floor. His legs shot out from his body, rigid and tight while his face stretched and contorted. His lips pulled away from his teeth as they seemed to grow, forcing him to bite his own lips until they became swollen and red. His body curled in on itself, seemingly in pain and he thrashed, silently, on the living room rug.

Derek glanced up briefly and then went back to his computer.

Stiles' entire body went straight and rigid as a board, then he arched his back up from the floor as his mouth and eyes opened in shock. Moments later he slumped back down and rolled over to belly. Slowly he rose up on his knees and then to his feet. He remained crouched down, close to the floor and only a few feet from his intended prey. His face was distorted into a manic grin, full of sharp teeth, eyes wild with nefarious intent.

With almost preternatural stealth Stiles crept closer to Peter's unprotected figure. His teeth gnashed in their sockets as spittle drooled from his open mouth. Close to the ground, his legs worked with effortless skill, bringing him closer and closer to the sleeping Peter.

Derek studiously ignored him.

Reaching the couch, Stiles strained his neck out and sniffed his intended victim. Starting at his feet, he slowly drew his nose over the sleeping figure, pausing for a deeper inhalation over Peter's nether regions. Stiles wriggled his nose and allowed himself to move closer to Peter's crotch, to breath deeper of his quarry's musky scent. Stiles tilted his head back and opened his mouth as his head rolled in response to the heady aroma. He paused, allowing himself to fully appreciate the enchanting bouquet of his intended prey.

Stretching his neck up, one vertebrae at a time, Stiles stuck out his tongue to lick at the pheromone laced air. Then he pulled himself back to his crouch and continued creeping up Peter's body, scenting him as he licked his reddened lips.

Finally reaching his prey's vulnerable throat, Stiles opened his mouth wide as drool dribbled down a single, sharp tooth. Swooping in, he struck with speed, strength and precision. Clamping down tightly he gnawed with vigor and enthusiasm.

Peter rolled from his side to his back and tilted his head to give Stiles more space to work his nefarious plans.

“Stiles.” Peter said, with a gasp, as Stiles executed a particularly sharp bite to Peter's throat.

“Nnggfff.” Stiles responded, his mouth full of Peter's neck.

“What are you doing, dear?” Peter asked as the soft lethargy of sleep slowly left his body.

“Nnffng.” Stiles said, refusing to let up on Peter's neck.

“Derek.” Peter said. “I know you're there, I can hear your heartbeat.”

Derek huffed.

“What is Stiles doing Derek?”

Derek huffed again.

“Derek.” Peter said. “Use your words, dear. We've been over this before. I can't read your mind. Use your words and tell Uncle Peter all about it.” Peter's voice rose on the last few syllables as Stiles moved from one side of Peter's neck to the other and placed a practiced tongue on an especially tender spot.

Derek snorted. “You started this Peter. You have to finish it.”

“What did I start Derek, and why is Stiles refusing to talk?”

“I don't think he _can_ talk. I think that in his present form he's unable to use human words.”

“Mmff, Hmmff.” Stiles mumbled in agreement as he burrowed his face into the soft underside of Peter's sleep-warmed neck. Stile's feet were still on the floor, but his body had begun to follow his head, stretching itself over his prey in an effort to make it more difficult for his prey to escape.

“His current form?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow, moving his head to give Stiles easier access to the underside of his neck.

“Yup.” Derek said.

“And what, pray tell, would his current form _be_?” Peter inquired, allowing his nearest hand to run up the outside of Stiles' jean-clad thigh, stopping on the swell of his rear end.

Derek sniggered.

Peter raised an attractively manscaped eyebrow.

Stiles let out a wet moan as he rutted just a wee bit between Peter's hand on his ass and Peter's muscled torso, pressed up against his groin.

Derek saved his work and closed his laptop. “Well you know how you and Stiles were talking about what the scariest supernatural creatures were?”

“Yes,” said Peter. “It's an ongoing debate.”

“And Stiles says it's not vampires because their weaknesses are too well known—direct sunlight, stake in the heart, or decapitation.”

“Yes” said Peter as he worked his hand up Stiles' jeans, kneading the flesh with strong fingers. “And....”

“And you say it's ghosts because you never know if they will possess you or suddenly become corporeal and break bad on your ass and then disappear before you can retaliate.”

“Not _ghosts_ Derek, _specters_. Ghosts are never a problem. They're practically harmless. It's when they become obsessed with revenge and turn into specters that they become really dangerous.” Peter's hand was making it's way into the waistband of Stiles jeans as he spoke. “And yes, I maintain that of all the supernatural creatures we're aware of, specters have the potential to be the biggest threat. Even more so than a horde of zombies.”

Derek scoffed. “Zombies are a myth.”

“So you say, dear nephew. I'm not yet prepared to agree with you on that point. Modern science is some scary shit and Dr. Frankenstein was only the beginning. Now, do be so kind as to explain to me what this has to do with Stiles' current condition.” Peter unbuttoned Stiles jeans to make it easier for him to wriggle his hand over Stiles' well conditioned ass.

Stiles moaned around a toothy mouthful of Peter's shoulder and humped the air tactfully.

Peter shuddered.

Derek pouted but continued anyway. “Well, while you were asleep Stiles figured out the definitively most terrifying supernatural creature in existence.”

Peter sucked in a quick breath as Stiles pushed up Peter's shirt and clamped his sharp teeth down onto a stiff, pink nipple. Peter retaliated by squeezing a firm fistful of Stiles' ass cheek. Stiles bit down incrementally harder.

Peter stifled a moan. “And... Come on Derek, don't hold me in suspense.”

Derek stashed his laptop carefully on a nearby table. He sank to the floor and tore his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the floor. He paused to stretch his arms up over his head, posing briefly for his lovers to take in his well toned musculature. Peter and Stiles both lifted their eyes to ogle Derek appreciatively. Derek unsnapped his jeans and ran a hand briefly over the bulge hidden behind his zipper. The aroma of aroused male in the room was rising and scents had always been one of Derek's biggest hot buttons.

Suddenly Derek's body went stiff, muscles rigid. He spasmed as his body contorted, throwing him forward onto his well-shaped belly. Derek convulsed and bucked violently, moaning with pain.

“Derek?” Peter asked warily as his hand froze in it's exploration of the cleft of Stiles' ass.

“Aacckk.” Derek growled as he crouched up onto his feet. Turning towards the other men, Peter was at last able to see Derek's face, which had changed to his wolf form. With eyebrows hidden behind bony brow ridges, his red eyes glowed the red of fresh arterial blood. Mutton chop sideburns covered the baby soft skin of his cheeks and jaw. Sharp canines jutted provocatively from h is open mouth. Eying his prize, Derek crept closer to Peter, who was still prostrate on the couch, held down by Stiles with surprising strength. At that moment Stiles took an especially stinging bite to Peter's soft belly, distracting him as Derek pounced upon their prey.

“Derek.” Peter said calmly as his lovers used their sharp teeth on his soft and tender skin.

“Nnggfff.” Derek responded as his clawed fingers dexterously opened Peter's jeans.

“Stiles.” Peter said mildly as he lifted his butt so Derek could remove the jeans more easily.

“Nnggfff.” Stiles replied, working his tongue into Peter's bellybutton, which was daintily outlined with dark, curly hairs. Stiles raised his head and spit one of the hairs out of his teeth. Then he bent back down to diligently continue his task.

Peter ejaculated a put-upon sigh from his thin lips. “All right boys. I give up. What is the definitively most frightening creature in the supernatural universe?”

Stiles raised up onto his knees and wiped the spit from his mouth. His hair was disheveled. His eyes were dilated and he had an erection that wept in the confinement of his jeans.

Peter gawked at the wanton state of his lover, then hissed as he felt the unmistakable sensation of wolf teeth on his cock.

“Now Derek.” Peter said, looking from Stiles to Derek. “I gave up. I cried uncle. You are obliged to have mercy on me now. House rules.”

Derek leaned forward, taking Peter deeper into his mouth, down his tightly constricting throat, teeth scraping just a tiny bit as he sucked Peter down.

Peter whimpered. He liked a little fear, a dash of adrenaline, spicing up his sexy times. An Alpha wolf's teeth were certainly enough to ratchet up Peter's sensations, just the right amount to make the experience really good. Derek had figured this out over the time they'd been sleeping together. His mom had always taught him to be kind to his elders, so he took special pleasure in being able to make Peter's experience as stimulating as possible. He was a good nephew like that.

Peter groaned as Stiles reached forward and plucked a swollen nipple with thumb and forefinger. Peter threw his head back and howled as he shot a heavy load down his nephew's gullet. “Fuck!” Peter cried, bucking forward, relishing in the fact that he could still make Derek choke on his dick.

Derek carefully worked his way off of Peter's softening member, licking his puffy lips as an errant drop of ejaculate leaked from the corner of his mouth. Stiles leaned forward, claiming the drop as his own as he caught it with a pink tongue.

Peter lay on the couch, debauched, jeans around his knees, wet dick laying soft in a nest of dark brown curls.

Stiles grinned.

Peter panted.

Derek smirked.

“Were-fleas.” Stiles said. “Think about it. Derek and I turned into were-fleas and then we attacked you and sucked you dry. Were-fleas, definitely the singularly most frightening thing in the supernatural kingdom. There's no getting rid of us and just when you least expect it, we transform from mild mannered college student and alpha wolf into ravenous, sucking beasts.”

Stiles formed his hands into claw shapes and opened his mouth to show off his teeth.

“Were-fleas.” Derek said, gazing down upon his uncle fondly, and perhaps with a bit of pride that he had brought his uncle to such an indecent state. “There is no escape.”

 

===

Cora perched on the front porch of the duplex, head on Erica's lap. Erica ran her fingers gently through Cora's hair as they listened to the threesome in the duplex behind them devolve to incoherent grunts and moans. Werewolf hearing could be a trial at times, as both women well knew.

Cora sighed. “Were-fleas.”

“Yup.” Erica said, popping the _p_.

“I gotta get my own place.”

Erica responded with a soft pat to her friend's arm and continued to pet Cora, offering what comfort she could.

Cora sniggered. “Were-fleas.”

Erica grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> My fics are trigger happy. It is always safe to assume that if you have triggers, my story will provoke them. I am a card carrying deviant and my stories are the product of a dark and twisted muse. While this particular story seems trigger-free to me, if you are sensitive, then you probably don't want to read it.
> 
> This story, as with all of my stories, is available for derivative and transformative works. Blanket permission is granted for other fans to use my work to create podfics, fanart, fanvids, borrow characters, plot ideas, nicknames etc. I request a link back to the original work, but otherwise—have at it.


End file.
